


Delight

by b_l_u_e__n_i_g_h_t_s



Category: EXO (Band), NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: (because he's an intellectual.), Angst and Fluff and Smut, Demisexuality, Eating Disorder Recovery, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff, Healthy Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioned NCT Ensemble, Mentioned Tenwin, Mentioned WayV Ensemble, Slow Burn, Smut, Soft Byun Baekhyun, Soft Lee Taeyong, SuperM ensemble - Freeform, SuperM tour, Taeyong falls somewhere on the Demisexual spectrum, Taeyong has a thing for Baekhyun's lips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:14:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24150391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_l_u_e__n_i_g_h_t_s/pseuds/b_l_u_e__n_i_g_h_t_s
Summary: Taeyong is younger and less experienced than Baekhyun, he is a kid here, would be way out of line to voice his worries. Who is he to give Byun Baekhyun advice on anything? To offer his help with problems Baekhyun hasn’t ever even talked about? Well, it’s a good thing that Taeyong has been mom and dad to proud, stupid teenagers for almost as long as he can remember. Because Taeyong is not only good at noticing things. He is also not too bad at comforting people without them noticing.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun & Lee Taeyong
Comments: 60
Kudos: 261





	1. GHOST.

Taeyong is ducking his head to avoid the lightning-storm of camera flashes when he sees Baekhyun stumble. Not the kind of stumble that comes from shoe laces untied or steps missed, but the scary kind, the kind that means something is really wrong. Taeyong moves without second thought, reaches Baekhyun in a couple of quick strides, wraps his arm around Baekhyun’s tiny waist and holds on as tightly as he can, all before the manager and security have even had time to realize something is wrong.

Baekhyun’s face is sallow, deep blue bruises beneath his eyes, his skin shining with cold sweat.

“Hold on,” Taeyong says, right into Baekhyun’s ear.

Baekhyun leans into Taeyong, stumbling blindly, his eyes unfocused. For the cameras, Taeyong tries to make it look like he is just chatting to his bandmate. But he knows they will have some explaining to do when the photos get out, because Baekhyun is so clearly unwell. They barely make it to the car before Baekhyun’s eyes roll inward, his body becoming a dead weight on the seat next to Taeyong, his head knocking against Taeyong’s shoulder so hard it hurts.

When they are on the road, the manager fans Baekhyun some cool air and pats his cheek until he comes to again. It looks like this is not the first time this happened. It takes about five minutes until Baekhyun starts cracking jokes again, making everyone in the car laugh and forget about what happened. “I’m just getting too old for touring,” Baekhyun says and proceeds to tell old-man jokes while he hides his trembling hands beneath his skinny thighs, shakes his head a little now and then as if to ward off dizziness, his face still stark white.

Taeyong tries really hard to fit into his new role in SuperM, tries to let his guard down, tries not to feel responsible. He lets his new older brothers buy him food and coffee and fuzzy travel blankets, lets himself be cuddled and lets them make him his favorite sweet tea before bedtime. And Taeyong likes feeling a little more carefree, a little younger, younger than he has felt in a really long time. But Taeyong has spent years listening for the sound of nightmares after lights-out, has cooked many emergency meals for hungry mouths, searched for lost wallets and key cards and contact lenses. He has gently wiped away tears from tired faces, encouraged timid souls and been a shield, always, against the world for his crazy, wonderful, talented, pain-in-the ass kids.

And so, while everyone is chatting and laughing, while Baekhyun makes jokes to help everyone feel more at ease, what Taeyong sees is how Baekhyun tells jokes when he is weary, how he uses humor to deflect, to mask festering insecurities he never voices. And while Baekhyun buys food for the members and the staff, makes sure everyone is well-fed, what Taeyong sees are the ever-smaller portions on Baekhyun’s plate and how content he looks when someone else is eating while he is not, how Baekhyun eyes sweet and greasy food but won’t touch it, instead sipping on ice-cold black coffee. When Baekhyun makes sure that everyone is as well-rested as possible, asks management to make changes to the schedule if he feels the younger members are looking drained, what Taeyong sees is the deep purple bruises beneath Baekhyun’s eyes.

*

They are in Mexico, the tour in full swing, all of them slowly growing into a new, rag-tag family. They have a night off and decide to watch a movie together on the big flat-screen in Taemin’s room. Taemin and Jongin trick them all into watching a Mexican horror movie. They promise what they are advertising is a sweet, healing film about two cute kids visiting their grandparents. Well, fuck them. Because the kids die. And so do the grandparents. And there are so many ghosts, there is so much blood and horror that by the end everyone is scared shitless. Well, except for Jongin and Taemin, who are having the time of their fucking lives.

There is a sickening shriek, followed by bones breaking, flesh ripping. It’s so disgusting and scary that Taeyong cannot look away. Ten hides behind Baekhyun’s back, whimpering softly. Baekhyun is doing his best to keep it together, brushes a hand through Tens hair and cracks a joke that has Ten and Lucas and Marc giggling despite their obvious fear. Ever the funny, happy, solid rock for them to lean on. But Taeyong sees the way Baekhyun is sneaking glances at the mirror next to the couch they are stretched out on, sees the way he eyes at the treacherously dark surfaces of the windows.

Baekhyun looks tiny in his oversized, white t-shirt, his hair a blonde mess. His face is pale, deep blue shadows under his eyes, his cheekbones sharp and scary in the light of the TV. He looks so young and so scared that something in Taeyong just snaps.

Taeyong is younger and less experienced than Baekhyun, he is a kid here, would be way out of line to voice his worries. Who is he to give Byun Baekhyun advice on anything? To offer his help with problems Baekhyun hasn’t ever even talked about? Well, it’s a good thing that Taeyong has been mom and dad to proud, stupid teenagers for almost as long as he can remember. Because Taeyong is not only good at noticing things. He is also not too bad at comforting people without them noticing.

When the movie is finally over and they have turned the lights back on, Taeyong shivers and turns big, scared eyes on Baekhyun. “Hyung,” he says, pushing his socked foot under Baekhyun’s thigh, “my room kind of looks like that one bedroom in the movie, doesn’t it? With that huge mirror right next to the door and so much space for… things… to hide.” He doesn’t have to fake being scared all that much, the movie freaked him the fuck out.

Baekhyun swallows, tries to look calm and collected. He almost pulls it off. “Don’t worry,” he says, “it was just a silly story. Nothing like that exists, you know, you are perfectly safe.”

Taeyong nods but presses his lips together. “Would you… can you check? The room? Please? Just to make sure?”

Baekhyun ends up going through Taeyong’s room, peering into all the mirrors and the windows, even though he is clearly scared as all hell. He looks so small and so lost, Taeyong thinks, and yet he is trying so hard to be calm for Taeyong, to make sure he feels safe.

Taeyong sees himself getting up in the small hours of the night, tired and cold and sick with the flu, pretending to be fine, fine, gently brushing Ten’s hair out of his face, singing to him, softly, quietly, holding him until he falls back asleep after a nightmare. The nightmares, they are always about something happening to Ten’s family, who are so far away from him. Taeyong sees himself cooking a healthy but delicious breakfast for his youngest kids, watching one YouTube tutorial after the other to figure out how to fucking do it and look as if it is not a big deal so no one will feel bad. He sees himself speaking at award shows, on live TV, in foreign countries, praising his kids, praising all of their beautiful talents, each one of them so blindingly good at what they do. He sees himself standing in front of crowds, making sure everyone is feeling at ease, pretending not to be scared while his bones are rattling as if they want to jump out of his trembling skin.

Something warm blooms in his chest and Taeyong draws in a shaky breath. “Hyung, I…” he starts, his voice small and trembling. “I don’t… it’s okay if you don’t… but could you maybe... I really don’t want to be alone.”

Baekhyun turns around, his reflection on the black glass of the windows behind him a pale, lost sliver of light. He nods, the corners of his lips pulling up. “Of course, Taeyong-ie, come on, you can share my room. There is plenty of space on the bed. Let’s just get your stuff, okay?”

They carry over Taeyong’s things, his fluffy duvet and a pillow. And when they have added them to the huge bed in Baekhyun’s room, Lucas appears in the doorway, looking like an oversized puppy. “I-,” he starts and Baekhyun smiles, soft and sure, all of his own fears hidden so well. “You wanna stay here tonight?” He asks and Lucas looks all kinds of elated.

They snuggle up in bed, the lights dimmed but still on, the curtains drawn, Lucas on one side of Taeyong, Baekhyun on the other. Taeyong makes his breath go even and quiet, waits for the others to fall asleep, listening for the small sounds of impending nightmares.

But Lucas is out as soon as his head hits the pillow, just like always, his breath smooth, his eyelashes dancing in his sleep. Baekhyun takes a while longer to drift off, but finally his breath, too, evens out. His face turns softer, still, younger, too. When he whimpers and his face pulls into a grimace, Taeyong scoots closer to Baekhyun, wraps one arm around his tiny waist. Impossibly, Baekhyun feels even smaller than he looks. Baekhyun huffs a breath, his face smoothing out, cuddles closer using Taeyong’s arm as a pillow. This close, Taeyong can feel it, the coldness clinging to Baekhyun’s bones that speaks of too many missed meals, the loneliness clinging to his heart that speaks of too many worries to ever really let your guard down enough to let somebody get close to you.

Taeyong remembers lying in his bed, shivering under his blanket, young and scared, listening into the quiet to be sure he hears if someone needs him. Sees his bones pressing up against his skin, his body still trying to catch up with his growth, his face still that of a child.

Taeyong runs his fingers down the ridges of Baekhyun’s spine and speaks, softly, into Baekhyun’s hair. Words of thanks and acceptance. Secret things, only spoken in these quiet hours of the night, but that he hopes will reach the part of Baekhyun that feels so very cold and alone.

Lucas moves back into his room after that night, but Taeyong never really does, though they don’t talk about it. When night falls and they all get ready for bed, Taeyong pulls on his pajamas, washes up and pads to the door to whatever room Baekhyun is staying in that night. They are usually tired as hell, their bones aching from their tightly packed schedules and the brutal pace of their shows. They watch stupid YouTube videos together and play video games, laughing about how competitive they both get. When sleep comes, they cuddle close, Baekhyun’s head resting on Taeyong’s arm while they talk, their voices growing fainter, their words blurry, quietly, quietly pushing out loneliness and worries before true sleep.

*

Baekyhun’s skin grows paler as the tour goes on, his jawbones become so sharp it looks as if they might split his skin open, spilling a red, warm mess all over his neck and shoulders. There are more moments of rolled-back eyes and wobbling steps, more cold sweat on sallow skin.

Taeyong tries to get Baekhyun to eat more, to share his food, to gently talk him into having another bite, to have some rice with the vegetables on his plate, to order a milkshake instead of another iced coffee. But Baekhyun just shakes his head, says “no, thank you” and keeps getting paler and smaller and weaker.

Taeyong changes gears one night when they are sitting down for a shared meal of veggies, chicken breast and rice. He mentions how much trouble he is having with eating enough because he feels like he must diet more, seeing his big brothers being so disciplined (though this is kind of unfair because Taemin and Jongin have been sneakily eating waffles any chance they get). He says it quietly, ashamed, a couple of times, just lets it drop once in a while when they are sitting down for a shared meal, when he sees Baekhyun’s plate all empty. Baekhyun’s bones are poking out through his skin now, so much that Taeyong is scared the ridges of his spine might break the soft, fragile skin covering them.

It takes a couple of weeks, the tour in full swing, but one night after a particularly draining show, Baekhyun eyes Taeyong’s scarce dinner carefully, watches him eat measured and slow. Baekhyun’s fingers fidget, touch the wooden table and his own nearly empty plate, considering, scared scared.

“Hey, how about some actual food, huh?” He finally says, sounding casual and like it is no big deal, like he hasn’t been debating it in his head for the good part of the last half hour. He looks at all of them, smiles. “I’ll pay, you order whatever you like. We deserve a cheat day, yeah?”

They order burgers, fries, milkshakes, delicious food that turns their blood into liquid fire, all sparkly and happy and prickling. Lucas scarfs down four burgers in the time it takes Taemin to unwrap his first.

Baekhyun eats his share, has an entire burger, a good hand full of fries, an entire strawberry milkshake. He watches Taeyong eat out of the corner of his eyes, feeds him some fries, a chocolate chip cookie, looks elated when Taeyong looks full and happy and his cheeks are rosy and warm.

Things don’t change drastically after that, but Baekhyun doesn’t stop watching Taeyong eat and there are more cheat-days, more cookies and delicious food shared between all members, with laughter and smiles and happiness weaving sparkling strings between them all.

*

They go out for coffee to one of Mark’s favorite coffee shops in Vancouver. It is a cozy little place that smells like heaven. They all order one of the crazy coffee creations illustrated in bold colors on the big blackboard above the counter. Taeyong goes with something that looks like it is made from caramel and marshmallows and clouds. They all squeeze around a table in one corner of the café. Baekhyun buys the staff all drinks, too, and they squeeze around the table next to theirs.

Taeyong ends up sharing a plush green armchair with Baekhyun. Taemin tells a story about one of SHINee’s Japanese tours that, as always, seems almost too crazy to believe. Jongin, who obviously knows the story already, laughs before each funny part, a free, loud belly-laugh that somehow still sounds tiny and cute. Jongin chokes on the sparkly foam on his coffee and laughs sweet, vanilla-scented coffee all over himself when Taemin recounts a loud fit between Minho and Kibum that ended with them both drenched in a hotel whirl-pool and Jonghyun pouring soap into it until their entire room was flooded with bubbles.

While he listens, Taeyong feels his eyes wandering to the creamy coffee in Baekhyun’s hands, to the slender fingers wrapping around the cool glass, leaving marks. He watches as Baekhyun’s pink lips wrap around the straw, watches his tongue dart out, take a lick of cream dusted with red sprinkles. Taeyong feels warmth spreading from his cheeks all over his skin, making him restless, making him swallow once, twice. Baekhyun’s lips look wet and sticky, a single red sprinkle clinging to them. Taeyong tries to breathe, but his chest is all tight. Baekhyun turns to him then and smiles and Taeyong feels caught, even though he is not sure at what.

“Want a taste?” Baekhyun asks and Taeyong nearly jumps out of his skin. Baekhyun tilts his straw towards Taeyong, who feels stupid and strange, but he leans forward, closes his lips around the straw. He tastes sticky sweetness, tries really hard not to think about how the warmth lingering on the metal straw is the warmth left by Baekhyun’s lips. He is so flustered, why is he so flustered? What is happening to him? Taeyong closes his eyes, swallows sugar and coffee and cream and strawberries. When he leans back and opens his eyes again, Baekhyun is watching him, his pupils wide and deep and dark. Taeyong sputters “thanks” and “that’s really good” and leans back even further, pulls his cap into his face and the collar of his shirt up over his stupid lips and his stupid blush. He thinks he might look insane, but it is all he can do not to spontaneously combust in a fucking coffee shop in Canada.

*

Things go back to normal after that, and Taeyong thinks he may have just been high on sugar and cream that afternoon in Vancouver. He grows ever closer to his bandmates, happy to get to spend so much time with Ten and Lucas, who have been really busy with WayV promotions lately, happy to hear more crazy stories and awesome gossip from Taemin and Jongin, who seem to know everyone in the industry. Happy to see Mark being so free and confident, his bright, beautiful heart open for everyone to see. He still sleeps in Baekhyun’s room at night, until the sound of his quiet breaths and the scent of his skin become a familiar presence in Taeyong’s dreams. Baekhyun’s cheeks grow a little fuller, his eyes brighter, as the tour continues. And there is a bubbly energy inside of him that seems like it grows with each stop of the tour, with each milkshake and each cookie they taste.

They spend three days in New York city. The schedule is tight – packed with interviews and photo shoots and rehearsals before their show on the final night in the city. But they all still find some time to explore, getting lost in small alleys with dark brick walls rising up around them, tasting pizza so good it makes Mark declare that he will get married to it and damned the laws that say he can’t. Ten sketches the grand architecture of the city in his small leather sketchbook whenever they sit down for coffee or a snack. Jongin takes pictures of everyone, captures smiles and laughter and teasing. There are arguments, too, because they are starting to be a real family now, starting to state their opinions openly and show their bad temper in the morning or after a long drive. Those days in New York, Taeyong feels a summer kind of happiness inside him, like fizzy wine in his blood.

On the morning of their last day in the city, they have a photo shoot for a big magazine interview. They all get ready in front of a huge mirror in a room that smells like hair spray and glitter and lipstick and new clothes. In the crazy bustle all around him, Taeyong tries to hold still while his amazing stylists apply his makeup and do his hair. He can see Baekhyun in the reflection of the mirror, his head dropped back a little to allow the stylists easy access to his face. His skin is already crazy smooth, his eyes smoky and mysterious. Taeyong watches as one of the stylists brushes peach lip-gloss onto Baekhyun’s lips carefully. It shines wet in the bright lights surrounding the mirror. Taeyong tries to look away, but all he can smell is peaches, everywhere, and his eyes stay glued to Baekhyun’s wet, plump lips. Taeyong is suddenly very aware of his own heartbeat, his own breathing. He closes his eyes in an attempt to calm down, but that only conjures images in his mind, images of things he has never done with anyone, seen only late at night in video clips he would deny ever watching, his eyes glued to his phone screen, his breathing erratic.

Oh God.

Taeyong opens his eyes again, shakes his head a little and apologizes to the stylist who is trying to contour his face. He feels like his skin must be a million degrees hot, like everyone in the room must know the things he sees in his mind – Baekhyun on his knees in front of him, looking up at him through dark lashes, those wet, peach-colored lips closing slowly around his –

Taeyong sinks his teeth into the inside of his cheek, heard. He winces, tastes blood. God, he needs to snap out of it before he embarrasses himself. But still, still his eyes return to the mirror, still he wonders what it would feel like, taste like, to kiss Baekhyun’s sticky-sweet lips, to lick into his mouth, to touch all of his fingers to the smooth skin of Baekhyun’s face.

It is thanks to rigorous training started very young that Taeyong makes it through the photo shoot. He barely has any recollection of it afterwards. When they are back at the hotel to recharge before the final rehearsal and the show, Taeyong steps under the shower in his room and lets ice-cold water rush over his body until he is shivering like crazy and all thoughts have washed out of his mind.

Fucking hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This loosely follows SuperM's US tour. I started drafting this after Baekhyun's first promo photos for 'Delight' dropped. I really hope you enjoyed the first chapter and I would love to hear your feedback! :)


	2. UNDERWATER.

Taeyong dreams of deep waters swallowing him, currents pulling him under, under, until his lungs fill with dirty water. He is very cold and very alone. He tries to scream, but the only sound is the violent silence of the deep sea around him. He thrashes, even though he knows he should conserve his energy, and in the moments before all can turn black he hears people mumbling in his head. About how disappointed they are in him. How many mistakes he has made. How much more they expected of him.

Taeyong wakes with all of his muscles strung tight, unmoving, locked inside his own body. He has trained himself long ago to wake up without making a sound, so others don’t worry about him. He is drenched in cold sweat, his sheets moist and disgusting. Taeyong tries to force a deep breath into his lungs, to relax his muscles one by one. There are screams inside of him, so loud they hurt, ricocheting off the inside of his skin, hurting, hurting, until he is covered in bruises that no one will ever see. Still, he lies in the darkness without making a sound.

He is almost calm again, the nightmares finally fading, when he hears footsteps in the hallway that stop in front of his door. There is a pause, someone trying to muster up the courage to knock, to ask for help or comfort this late at night. Taeyong gets out of bed and shuffles to the door, pokes his head out into the dimly-lit corridor. Jisung’s eyes are red and his face is wet with tears. He is shaking like a leaf and hugging a pillow to his chest as tightly as he can.

“What happened?” Taeyong says as he wraps his arms around Jisung, squishing the pillow between them.

“I’m sorry,” Jisung hiccups into Taeyong’s shoulder, his voice tiny. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Shhh,” Taeyong walks them back, closes the door and makes Jisung stretch out on the bed next to him. Taeyong wraps his arms around him, pulls him close, gently cards his hands through his hair. “It’s okay, don’t worry, it’s okay. I’m here.” He mumbles nonsense, soothing things, words of love and comfort, until Jisung has stops crying and the shaking has faded into tiny trembles.

“I just saw some people from school planning a get together, you know, catching up with each other. And I just – no one invited me. Of course they didn’t, I don’t… and then I got so mad for hoping… and I just… What if I never have any friends… and then they just… the group chat is closed now and I can’t even see what they are planning anymore… but there is… I don’t want to… I mean I wasn’t even going to be invited anyways, so…” Taeyong can only follow Jisung’s words because they have had many similar conversations late at night, Jisung crying and shivering in his arms, small and young and scared and alone. Taeyong wishes, not for the first time, that he could kill everyone who has ever hurt Jisung. But he swallows the anger for now, because it won’t do any good here, in the quiet darkness, with a fragile heart out in the open for him to see.

“It’s not you, it’s not,” he says instead, “You are wonderful and kind and funny and talented and warm-hearted and real, so real.” He continues to card his hands through Jisung’s hair, presses closer to him, still. “Remember what Taemin-hyung said?” Taeyong asks.

Jisung nods. But quietly, he says: “But what if things changed for Taemin because of who he is and they won’t for me?”

“Because things seem hopeless to you now, and everything is always more hopeless in the night, isn’t it?” Taeyong lets his hands move down, rubs Jisung’s back in slow, calming movements. “I promise that you will have friends one day,” Taeyong is sure of it, infuses his voice with confidence. "It just takes time because of who we are, of how young you were when this all started. We lead such a strange life.” Taeyong closes his eyes.

They talk for an hour until Jisung falls asleep in Taeyong’s arms. Taeyong stays awake a little longer to make sure no nightmares chase the bad thoughts and worries. Only when Jisung’s breathing stays deep and calm does he follow him into sleep.

Taeyong sleep-walks his way through the following day. There is a strenuous dance practice, voice lessons and a long business meeting he has to try and stay alert in, because he needs to make sure the decisions made are not bullshit. He tries to keep the opinions of all of his boys in mind, wants to make sure he speaks for them the way they would want him to. There are some financial things to take care of, scheduling issues to sort out. He tries to eat very little to makes sure he won’t look bloated for the photoshoot that is scheduled for the next day.

It is after midnight when Taeyong wraps himself in his covers like a cocoon and buries his face in his pillow. He is deeply exhausted, a strange current of loneliness running beneath his skin. He wraps the blanket even tighter around his body, remembering the way it felt to be held, to be close to someone warm and comforting and safe.

They’ve been back from tour for a week and a half and he misses Baekhyun in ways he has no right to, misses him in ways he should not be missing him. It is worse at night, when things are quiet, when there is no one who needs Taeyong, when there are no fires to put out, no schedules and nothing to take care of.

Taeyong taps his phone screen and looks at Baekhyun on his wallpaper, chin-deep in the pool in LA, smiling the truly-happy smile that makes his eyes crinkle shut. When the screen goes dark again, Taeyong touches his fingers to the glass once more. The inside of his chest feels more complicated than it ever has. Taeyong is tired to the bone, but it takes him a long time to fall asleep.

*

The photoshoot the next day is long and draining, but everyone is looking their best and Taeyong cannot fucking wait for people to see all the work they have put into 127’s comeback. He is so excited for the songs, the art, the concept, and he cannot help the praise for everyone that spills from his lips all day.

Taeyong’s stomach growls like crazy now and again, they have all tried to eat as little as possible so the photos will come out looking perfect. About halfway through the shoot Taeyong starts to fantasize about juicy burgers and crispy fries.

When they are starting to wrap up on set, Taeyong thinks he might be hallucinating, because the scent of freshly cooked meat, noodle soup and Tteokbokki fill the air and makes his mouth water. The final few group shots they do are torturous, because all he can think about is the delicious scent of food in the air.

“I can’t take it anymore, god, why the fuck does it smell this delicious in here?” Jonny hisses while a makeup-artist touches up the makeup on Yuta’s forehead.

“Right?” Mark agrees and stands on tip-toes to try and see who brought food and find out if they can sneak some later.

When they are finally done, Baekhyun jumps onto the set and claps way too loud, making whooping sounds like a proud dad at his daughter’s first recital. “Wooohooooooooo,” he screams right into Taeyong’s ear as he wraps him up in a hug. “Ah, you guys all did so well!” Taeyong hasn’t even really had time to wrap his head around the fact that Baekhyun is here. Here. Here! before Baekhyun lets go of him to squish Mark in a tight hug and then hugs each member, one by one, praising them all as he goes. Taeyong thinks they might all be partially deaf by the time Baekhyun stops his whooping and praising and announces that he bought them lots of delicious food and they should all eat well.

Baekhyun is wearing a huge blue sweatshirt, looking like the sky at noon, his bleached hair fluffy and so excited it bounces with every step he takes. There is a rosy warmth to Baekhyun’s cheeks that Taeyong wants to touch his fingers to. But he thinks he might not be allowed to. Not here, not now that they are back home.

It feels unreal that Baekhyun is here, so unreal that Taeyong feels completely dazed, watching himself sitting on a red plush sofa eating delicious noodle soup, his knees only an inch from Baekhyun’s. It is Baekhyun’s nature to integrate into any group easily, he just loves and laughs so loudly that no one stands a chance against his charm. It takes him about half an hour until all of 127 are completely smitten with him. Taeyong watches it happen silently, a strange hurt in his chest. Somehow, it never crossed his mind that he would get to see Baekhyun outside of SuperM business and now that he is here, Taeyong doesn’t know how to deal with it, how to feel. It is a little more difficult to breathe, and there are prickly things happening just below his skin.

“Hey,” Baekhyun says, very softly, as he nudges Taeyong’s knee with his, “are you okay?” He looks serious now, no smile on his lips, his eyes focused on Taeyong alone. 

Taeyong feels his heart stumble. He nods, smiles, “yeah,” he says, almost inaudibly against the backdrop of happy chatter all around. He leans in a little closer, until he inhales the strangely familiar scent of Baekhyun being close. “I’m so happy to see you,” he admits.

Baekhyun smiles brightly at that, his eyes sparkling. “I am so happy to see you,” he says.

They end up talking and eating and drinking until everyone is full and happy. When the first eyes start to droop, Baekhyun declares the dinner over so everyone can go home and get some well-deserved sleep.

Taeyong touches his hand to Baekhyun’s before he gets into the car back to the dorms. “Thank you,” he says. A shy warmth spreads in his stomach when he meets Baekhyun’s eyes.

“I wanted to cheer you on for your comeback,” Baekhyun says, his eyes still smiling. “And I thought you’d probably all starve for the photoshoot, huh?”

Taeyong nods. “Thank you,” he says again. He thinks he would like to reach out, to cross the strange gap between them. But he just stands there, torn. It hurts to want to touch and not really know how.

It feels like there is more to say, more he needs Baekhyun to know, but he can’t find the words, can’t even really wrap his head around it, yet. There is an electric current running through his veins, crackling, crackling, until Taeyong is shaking with the feeling of being wound too tight.

“Oh, why didn’t you tell me you were cold?” Baekhyun says. Taeyong is wrapped up in his big blue sweater before he can protest. “There you go,” Baekhyun says, looking satisfied and pulling the hood of his sweater over Taeyong’s head. He wraps his arms around Taeyong and pulls him in really close, resting his chin on Taeyong’s shoulder. Taeyong wonders if Baekhyun can feel the crazy, hungry current running through his veins. Taeyong bites his lips, feeling strange and lost and nervous.

They stay like this for a little while, not long enough, until Baekhyun whispers: “See you soon.”

*

Taeyong comes to when it is still pitch-black. The echo of a loud knock hangs in the air, Taeyong is not sure if it was real or just his own heartbeat. It takes a moment for him to understand where he is, who he is. Disoriented, his head swimming, Taeyong sits up in his bed. A deep, heavy tiredness is still clinging to his limbs. Fragments of dreams swirling in his mind- of warm, soft hair between his fingers, teeth nipping at his lips, a lithe body pressed against his.

There is another knock on the door, quiet, quiet. Taeyong struggles to get up, shakes his head to clear it a little. He is wrapped up in Baekhyun’s blue sweatshirt that still smells like warm skin and warm hugs.

Taeyong opens the door to find Ten looking at him with so much worry in his eyes that Taeyong feels instantly more alert, the last remaining fragments of dreams lost to reality.

“What happened?” Taeyong asks, stepping back to let Ten in.

“I kissed Sicheng,” Ten says, stumbling over the words.

Taeyong blinks, shakes his head. He is surprised, but at the same time wonders why he would be surprised at all.

“I-“ Ten tries to say something else, but he just stutters nonsense, a mix of Thai, Mandarin and Korean Taeyong cannot make much sense of. Ten is usually so eloquent but seems at a complete loss for words.

Taeyong throws two pillows onto the floor for them to sit on. He gives Ten some space but nudges his toes against Ten’s shin to tether him to the moment, to make sure he knows Taeyong is there.

“I shouldn’t have done it,” Ten mumbles, head bent. His hair is messy, his shirt inside-out. He looks a complete mess.

“Why?” Taeyong asks, his voice neutral, serious. “Did Sicheng tell you not to?”

Ten shakes his head right away and Taeyong takes a relieved breath. “It’s just that I don’t – he kissed me back. Like, really kissed me back. But he looked so scared after - and he’s been avoiding me and I just don’t - ” He rubs his face with both hands, leaving red marks that make him look half-mad.

Taeyong loves Sicheng like he loves all of his members. But he will flay him alive if he hurts Ten’s fragile, beautiful heart.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Ten sighs. Taeyong gets up, pulls Ten up, pulls him into his bed. He wraps himself around Ten as if he could protect him from the hurt he might have to feel soon, from the shitty facts of intolerant families and the vile, spiky roots of homophobia embedded deeply into young minds and young hearts.

He tries to comfort Ten, to talk through this, promises him that he will be there, always, of course he will be there. But he tastes bitter dread on his tongue every time he swallows, because he knows he might be powerless to protect Ten in this.

*

After a long, strenuous practice session the next day, Taeyong goes to find Sicheng. He finds him in a basement practice room, alone, going through a complicated series of movements at a speed that would make Taeyong snap multiple tendons.

“Can I talk to you?” He asks. Sicheng looks like he has gotten about an hour of sleep in the past week, his skin is so pale that he looks as if somebody turned his color saturation to zero on accident. He comes to a halt, nods, avoiding Taeyong’s eyes.

They sit down on the practice room floor and Taeyong takes a deep breath for courage. “Look, I know Ten seems all confident and easy-going and free,” he says then, “but he has a soft heart and he gets attached so easily.” Taeyong keeps his tone level. “So you need to set things straight, you need to talk to him. And you will not play with him, you will not play with his heart, understood?”

Sicheng blushes a deep red, flowers blooming suddenly and unexpectedly on his pale cheeks. He shakes his head so violently that Taeyong is afraid for his spine. “I would never,” he says, his voice clear and steady. He looks up at Taeyong, then, holds his gaze for a moment even though it clearly costs him a lot of courage to do so. He looks at Taeyong long enough to let Taeyong see the fear and the love warring in his eyes.

“I tried so hard not to – I tried so hard to be what I was supposed to be. I am really scared. And I needed some time to wrap my head around it all. But Ten is- when I look at him I just know- it’s just– “ He sighs, shakes his head softly, huffs out a frustrated breath. He doesn’t say anything else, but there is this fragile softness to his eyes, in that moment, and that is really all that Taeyong needs to know.

“Will your family be okay with it?” Taeyong asks.

Sicheng shakes his head, all color drained out of his cheeks once more. “No.” He says it with so much conviction, it breaks Taeyong’s heart. Sicheng looks scared and lost and much younger than he is. Taeyong hugs him tight, lets Sicheng bury his face in the crook of his neck.

“If there is anything you need, anything you need to talk about, you come to me, okay?” Taeyong says. “I have your back. I will always have your back. I will always be on your side.” He gently runs his hands down Sicheng’s back, again, again, soothing. Sicheng doesn’t cry, he never does, he holds himself together with the grit and strength ingrained into him during years of rigorous training at dance school. But Taeyong can feel the terror in him and the echo of hurt. He doesn’t give Sicheng lies, doesn’t tell him everything will work out fine, because he knows it might not. What he does instead is tell him how much he loves and supports him, how wonderful he is, how hard-working and talented and kind and how much he appreciates how Sicheng quietly takes care of others, always meaning well, always believing in the good of people. “No matter what happens,” he says against Sicheng’s skin, “this family, us, we will never turn our backs on you. This family is forever.”

*

Taeyong has just pulled Baekhyun’s sweatshirt over his shower-wet hair on Saturday night when Baekhyun calls. He sits down on his bed, already turned down for the night, and answers the phone.

“Hey.” Baekhyun’s voice is uncharacteristically tight.

“Are you okay?” Taeyong asks.

“I-“ Silence.

“Where are you? What happened?” Taeyong is up and out the door, toeing on his sneakers before Baekhyun speaks again.

“Home,” Baekhyun says finally. “Sorry for calling so late. I’m sure you’re either busy or about to pass out from exhaustion.” He is not wrong.

“What happened? You sound really worried.”

Baekhyun’s apartment is not too far from the dorms, so Taeyong decides to walk there. He has been there a couple of times with the other SuperM members.

“I just – ugh, there are so many fucking decisions to make about the new album and I just got yelled at for like three hours for voicing my opinions and I really don’t know what to do.” Baekhyun sounds defeated and tired and, scarily, close to tears.

“I’m on my way over to your place right now,” Taeyong says. He thinks he might be crossing a line, but Baekhyun called him, didn’t he?

“I should probably tell you to turn back and get some sleep. But I won’t lie, I could really use the company right now,” Baekhyun admits. Something warm and shiny blooms in Taeyong’s chest, makes him feel lighter, somehow. He thinks if he pulled up his shirt the people on the streets might be able to see the golden light shining through his ribs, it feels that bright.

Baekhyun is waiting by the open door of his apartment when Taeyong steps out of the elevator. He is wearing a wide, pale orange shirt, his hair as wet and messy as Taeyong’s. He looks small and lost and worried and there are treacherous red streaks on his cheeks.

Taeyong wraps him up in a tight hug the moment the door closes behind him.

They settle on Baekhyun’s comfy couch, each with a steaming mug of tea in their hands. Baekhyun’s eyes linger on the blue sweatshirt Taeyong is wrapped up in and Taeyong blushes, embarrassed. But Baekhyun doesn’t say anything, so Taeyong doesn’t say anything, either.

“Will you tell me about the decisions they asked you to make?” Taeyong asks into the silence, his cheeks still tinged red. Baekhyun looks down into his tea cup and nods.

They talk about the decisions for the new SuperM album, the concept, scheduling issues and the difficulties arising from having everyone in the group so occupied with other projects in addition to SuperM’s schedule. Taeyong pulls his feet up on the couch and sticks them under Baekhyun’s leg, the contact making him feel happy, warm and nervous all at the same time. He tries to concentrate on the things Baekhyun is saying. But it is getting difficult, because Taeyong’s eyes keep being pulled to Baekhyun’s lips that are red and look very warm from the tea.

“I can’t believe he yelled at you for hours over the phone,” Taeyong rolls his eyes. “I thought he did that to me just because I was so young and, you know, inexperienced.”

Baekhyun huffs out a laugh. “I can’t really imagine you ever being inexperienced in this stuff, you are so good at being who you are.” It is said like a fact, like something that can just casually be dropped into a conversation, like “your hair has always looked really shiny” or “you have always been pretty tall”. Taeyong doesn’t know how to deal with it, so he does what he always does in these kinds of situations: He laughs super awkwardly and flails his arms around like a strange bird.

He needs to get a fucking grip on his stupid social awkwardness. Damn it.

Baekhyun smiles a small, happy smile and touches his hand to Taeyong’s knee. “Thanks for coming over,” he says honestly. “Being alone with these things really sucks.”

Taeyong nods, because he knows all too well what it feels like.

They talk through the decisions that have to be made and go through some strategies on how to deal with the things that are weighing the heaviest on Baekhyun. In between, they order some food and make more tea. Taeyong briefly considers switching to beer but decides that that would probably make the strange buzzing inside of him even worse. That he might do something really stupid then. He feels too hot, his skin way too tight, so he strips of Baekhyun’s sweatshirt. But the T-shirt underneath is also too warm. He wishes he could sneak away for a cold shower.

When they have finished their food and are each sipping on their fourth cup of tea, Taeyong decides to trust Baekhyun with another part of himself, something he hasn’t shared with anyone, not like this.

“I am really worried about some of my bandmembers,” he admits. “I try to be there for them, but I am so worried that they will get hurt and I’ll be powerless to do anything against it.” He has been trying so hard to become the quiet, dependable strength they need to lean on sometimes, that he has locked all of these worries deep inside of himself. They come out at night, sometimes, in his dreams, in his nightmares, but he has never let anyone see the bruises they leave.

“Do you want to talk about it? The things that worry you?” Baekhyun asks.

Taeyong doesn’t mention names, he will not give away secrets that do not belong to him. But he shares his worries and feels himself become a little lighter with each word. It is as if things cannot stay as scary as they felt inside him now that they are out in the open, as if the light in Baekhyun’s apartment helps him to see them for what they are. He is still worried. But he feels less lost inside of it, less helpless, somehow. Baekhyun has been in the industry long enough to know similar stories, similar worries. And, though he doesn’t mention names, either, he shares ideas that might help, things to try.

The sun is almost raising her head again when Taeyong gets ready to leave. He feels full and warm, but wound too tight, he needs – he needs –

Taeyong bits his lower lip, hard. He doesn’t say: “I feel so close to you.” And he doesn’t ask: “Why do I miss you every day, why do I miss you all the time, why do I miss you even when you are right next to me?” Instead, he thanks Baekhyun for the food and the tea and for talking.

“I should be the one thanking you. I kept you awake all night with my worries,” Baekhyun huffs. “Thank you for coming over and for being so nice to me. Man, it really sucks to be yelled at by the boss.”

Taeyong nods and laughs a strange, high-pitched laugh. “Yeah, it does,” he agrees. They share a knowing smile. Baekhyun looks really tired, his contours all soft and blurry somehow. Taeyong wants to touch the small dip of Baekhyun’s waist, wants to bury his face in the warm crook of Baekhyun’s neck. But he doesn’t ask to stay, and he doesn’t reach out. He feels shy and stupid and young in a way he hates feeling.

Baekhyun calls a cab despite Taeyong’s protests that the dorms are really not that far away and insists to walk Taeyong down to the car.

“Hey wait,” Baekhyun says when they reach the apartment door, “it must be pretty cold out.” He gestures at Taeyong’s t-shirt. “Hold on a second,” he says and vanishes.

He comes back with a black and white hoodie in his hand. It smells faintly of him, of his skin and his hair and the soap he loves using. “Here,” he says and holds it out.

Taeyong says “thank you”, even though those words seem way too simple and way too small for what he truly means to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so Delight dropped while I was working on this chapter and omg how AMAZING is that EP? I am so in love! I hope you like this installment of the story. I would love to hear what you think <3.


	3. CANDY.

It becomes somewhat of a pattern after that first night, one of them calling the other, or texting, sharing their worries. They meet up if they can find the time, go out to eat, play video games at Baekhyun’s place, watch silly shows on Taeyong’s bed in the NCT dorms while they wait for ordered food to arrive. But mostly, they talk. They talk about the things that weigh on them, the things that worry them, talk through the issues they cannot seem to find solutions to on their own. Baekhyun eats sometimes, other times he just brings sweets or drinks that taste like clouds and sprinkles for Taeyong and nothing for himself. Sometimes his stomach howls in pain, so loud Taeyong can hear. Sometimes he is ghostly pale and hollow-looking, all shadows and bones and not enough substance to make him completely human. Taeyong tries to make him eat, but he doesn’t succeed all that often.

They become ever closer, and it is becoming harder for Taeyong to clamp down on the things blooming inside of his chest, the things that make sunshine flood his belly and turn his head into fuzzy clouds.

Taeyong’s nightmares come less frequent, but they don’t stop for good. It is a windy Thursday night when he wakes with screams inside of him once more. He lies in bed, still and alone and afraid, staring into the darkness above. He tries to calm down, relax his muscles, remind himself that it was all just a dream, that he is fine, everything is fine. He wants to get up, make himself a coffee and chase the remains of nightmare-waters away all alone, the way he has been since he was so very young. But what he does is call Baekhyun.

It is the middle of the night and this goes against everything he is, everything he has trained himself to be. Maybe his brain is just not awake enough yet to tell him how much of a bad idea this is. And maybe, somehow, the mechanisms he has trained himself to follow, the ones keeping the screams inside, maybe those just don’t apply to what is between him and Baekhyun anymore.

Baekhyun answers after the fifth ring, his voice fuzzy and heavy with sleep. He sounds worried. Taeyong apologizes right away, because really, what the hell is he doing, waking his friend up at ass o’clock at night just because he had a stupid nightmare? He’s not five. He should have dealt with it by himself.

Taeyong expects rude words, or maybe he expects Baekhyun to hang up once Baekhyun is awake enough to understand that Taeyong is not in mortal danger. But what Baekhyun does instead is change the call to video and turn on a light on his nightstand so Taeyong can see him. Baekhyun’s face is bare and soft, with pillow creases on one cheek and sleep clinging to his lashes. He looks so close, still wrapped in his covers, his eyes only half-open. He smiles a shy, sleepy smile. “Nightmare?” He asks and Taeyong nods. He switches on a light so Baekhyun doesn’t have to stare at a black screen, at once conscious of how he must look. He draws up the black and white hood of Baekhyun’s shirt he is wearing, tries to hide inside of it.

“Do you have them often?” Baekhyun asks. Taeyong nods. He has never told anyone. It seems like a weakness, somehow, like something very personal, like something to be ashamed of.

“Are they always about the same things?”

Taeyong nods again, but he doesn’t elaborate and Baekhyun doesn’t pry. Instead, he shifts a little and smiles into the phone-camera. “I’m sorry you’re having such a shitty night,” he says.

They talk about fears and worries, touching close to the things that haunt Taeyong in his sleep. Until Taeyong’s eyes won’t really stay open anymore. Baekhyun sings for him, then, quietly. Calm things, Taeyong’s favorite songs, songs he has shared with Baekhyun during their US tour. Maybe he is surprised that Baekhyun remembers details like these, but mostly it just feels right, easy, easy as everything seems to be between them. Taeyong blinks, dreams slowly blending with reality, sees Baekhyun close and warm and blurry around the edges, singing only for him until Taeyong falls back into a deep, gentle sleep.

The day after, Baekhyun texts to invites Taeyong to play videogames with him when their schedules are done. Taeyong is sautéing vegetables for a healthy dinner of bibimbap for everyone when his phone chimes.

“Oh, I wonder who is texting you at night, asking you to come over, hm?” Doyoung asks, one eyebrow raised. Kun elbows Doyoung in the ribs hard and shushes him but can’t quite hide his stupid grin. Kun smells like a citrus forest because he is making fresh lemonade to go with dinner.

Hendery peeks into the kitchen, clearly afraid to be roped into helping, but hungry enough to be attracted by the smell of food. “Oh, do we have to add another star, mh?” He asks and Taeyong rolls his eyes. God, he hates them all so much sometimes. He lets out a long-suffering sight and stares at the fucking star-covered piece of paper on the fridge. Ten stuck it there with a way-too-colorful flower magnet two weeks ago. It reads “Taeyong needs to stop talking about his boyfriend” and below are rows and rows of golden star stickers, one for each time he has used Baekhyun’s name in the past two weeks. There are a fuck-ton of stars. He closes his eyes for a moment, allows himself a few seconds of terror about how helpless he is in concealing his excitement whenever Baekhyun calls or visits or texts. How are people subtle about these things? All he wants to do is tell everyone in the world how amazing Baekhyun is, all the time, show them videos of Baekhyun being cute and beautiful and amazing and talented. There is this thing he does with his voice, this subtle change in tone that is so characteristic, something many singers have tried to copy. But nobody has ever nailed it just right, not like Baekhyun does. And that one muscle in his neck that strains just a little when he bends his head to sustain one of his incredible high-

Taeyong burns the carrots.

Shit.

When he looks up from the smoking mess in his frying pan, Kun’s shoulders are shaking treacherously, but he is clearly trying to contain his laughter, to not be an asshole. Doyoung? Yeah, he’s full-on cackling.

Ten and Mark stroll into the kitchen. Mark sneaks some food and they all pretend not to notice. Taeyong scoops up a spoon of one of the side dishes he has already prepared and feeds it to Mark, who is clearly hungry and exhausted. He feeds some to Ten, too, and then Hendery, who complains at being left out.

After, Taeyong starts to sate another batch of carrots. When they are done and resting in cold water so they remain crisp, Taeyong slides his phone out of his apron pocket. He tries to ignore the mayhem around him. Someone is throwing napkins at someone else and colorful skittles spill all over the kitchen floor for some reason.

‘cooking for the members atm. Healthy delicious dinner, wanna join?’ he texts.

Baekhyun sends back a happy-face.

“You guys okay with Baekhyun coming over for dinner?” Taeyong asks into the chaotic wall of noise around him.

Ten makes a big production of adding a sticker to the sheet on the fridge. Nobody says “no”.

There are fifteen people spread out across the living room when Baekhyun arrives. Doyoung made ice-cream that is chilling in the freezer and Kun is serving everyone lemonade.

Baekhyun has been over a few times and he has surprised them with dinner or coffee after tiring shoots often enough that everyone is comfortable around him by now. Baekhyun smiles brightly and waves hello at the room, at home surrounded by way too many people and way too much chatter.

“Hi, I brought some snacks,” he says and places a tray of what is clearly very expensive food on the floor with the rest of the dishes. Everyone digs in right away and Baekhyun looks happy. He looks at Taeyong over the sea of heads and hands and spoons and smiles a different smile, one that is just for Taeyong.

Taeyong kind of chokes on his rice and has to hide behind his hands for a moment.

Baekhyun sits down on the floor next to Taeyong, knocks their shoulders together and thanks Doyoung for handing him a plate and a glass of lemonade. He is dressed in fitted black jeans and an oversized white dress-shirt. A simple, slim silver necklace disappears into the v of the shirt. Taeyong tries not to look at it too much because it makes his skin feel hot and tight and strange.

“Tell us about the concept for your new album,” Lucas asks when Baekhyun has settled down and started eating in small, careful bites. While he talks about his ideas, the people he is collaborating with, his excitement is obvious in every word, it radiates off him, contagious and happy and alive. He asks for opinions, too, about things he is not sure about, yet, things he might want to try. There could be a strange gap here, between Baekhyun and everyone else, his years of experience, his success and the influence and the many ties in the industry he clearly has. But he is just this: Someone excited about music, giddy with joy about this new project, sharing his ideas and asking for their thoughts. He is just this: A human being, scared and flawed and happy and bright and a little bit silly and very beautiful.

Everyone tries to stick to speaking Korean at first and it is a testament to how comfortable everyone feels around Baekhyun that the evening soon descends into the usual mess of languages. Baekhyun looks a little lost sometimes, but he eases into the chaos surprisingly smoothly. And soon enough everyone talks in what has, somehow, over the years become their own language. While Baekhyun makes them explain some phrases and laughs at messy, trilingual jokes, Taeyong leans his head on Baekhyun’s shoulder and closes his eyes. He is overwhelmed by a sudden wave of all the love he has for his weird-ass family. There is so much happiness inside of him he can barely contain it, feels it pricking at his eyes, salty and warm. Baekhyun rests his head against Taeyong’s hair while Johnny tells him a joke that is half American, half Korean, the vowels soft and round, and Sicheng chimes in in beautiful Mandarin before Ten asks Sicheng to explain one of the phrases he used. Ten repeats it in Thai first, as if his brain needs to consolidate the meaning in his mother tongue before he repeats the phrase in Mandarin, Sicheng and Hendery correcting his tone until he gets it perfectly right.

“That cat you are adopting,” Baekhyun says to Ten, “is going to be fluent in more languages than me before it turns one.” He laughs a happy belly laugh and accepts a refill of lemonade from Kun with a bow and a polite “thank you”. Taeyong snuggles closer to Baekhyun, still, he needs as little space between them as possible, he wants to feel the warmth of him, the life thrumming beneath his skin, the radiant, bright happiness that Baekhyun exudes any time he is surrounded by people he likes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Taeyong sees Yuta wince in pain as he shifts on the floor, his leg angled in a way that looks… wrong.

“What happened to your knee?” he asks.

Yuta shakes his head dismissively. “Nothing, it’s fine.”

But he is white as the wall behind him and he is holding his right leg very still.

“It doesn’t look fine,” Taeyong says, his tone gentle steel. But Yuta just shakes his head again, the stubborn ass.

Taeyong sighs. He knows Yuta must have re-injured his knee during practice today, knows it will only get worse if he doesn’t get it examined as soon as possible. He also knows that getting Yuta to go see the medics has about as much of a chance as asking a brick wall to move.

But he has been doing this for a very long time. So he picks up his phone and texts Yuta, who reads his message with a furious expression, but starts stealing glances at Jisung. Jisung has been staring at his phone screen all night, hardly eating. Tonight is the night of the school reunion party he was not invited to. He is trying to put on a brave face, Taeyong knows, but he looks lost and tired and sad. “there is nothing better than feeling needed to ward off loneliness” is something Taeyong’s mother used to say when he was younger and missed a lot of school because of practice. He has been wondering how to make Jisung feel loved and important all night.

When Jisung’s lower lip starts to quiver, Yuta finally clears his throat and touches his fingers to his injured knee.

“Shit, I think I really did re-injure my fucking knee,” he says. Most of his swearing is still in Japanese. “It hurts like a motherfucker, I think I need to get this checked out tonight. Sorry.” He looks around the room and lets his gaze settle on Jisung. “Jisung-ie, I am sorry to ask you, but would you mind coming with me? I could really use someone to lean on.”

Jisung looks baffled by the question, but beams with pride at being the first one Yuta asked out of all the people here. “Yes, of course,” he says and gets up right away. Yuta leans quite a bit of his body weight on him, sending the clear message that he trusts Jisung, trusts him to hold him up and safe, trusts in his strength.

Baekhyun’s head is still leaning against Taeyong’s, but he pulls back to watch Yuta and Jisung leave. He looks at Taeyong when they are gone, his eyes narrowed as if he is trying to figure him out.

When all food has been eaten and everyone has settled down a little, limbs heavy with exhaustion, Taeyong gets up to do the dishes. Baekhyun follows without a word. They work side-by side for a while in the otherwise empty kitchen, the quiet sounds of running water soothing Taeyong’s messy thoughts. Taeyong feels self-conscious about the way he stacks things all neat, the way he needs to organize the plates by color in the cupboards, the fact that all soap spots and all water stains have to be removed from the sink before he can breathe freely. He loves being surrounded by his big, chaotic family, but he needs to recharge his batteries after a day and an evening like this. And cleaning, organizing, making things neat and tidy in the quiet space he feels comfortable in, that has always been his way of relaxing.

“So, I guess you are catching on to the fact that I am a neat freak,” he says into the comfortable silence without looking at Baekhyun. He says it like a joke, but it isn’t, he is afraid of being judged by someone who has, in ways he can’t quite understand, become very important to him over the past few months.

“Does it help you relax and quiet your thoughts?” Baekhyun asks. Tears prick at Taeyong’s eyes at being so easily understood. He nods.

“Minseok is the same,” Baekhyun says, “he used to pull out all towels from the closets and re-fold them if he had a particularly stressful day.” He turns to look at Taeyong, touches warm fingertips to his wrist. “When I feel like that I lie down on my carpet in the dark and sing,” he says, his voice gentle, “we all have our own ways of recharging, right?”

Taeyong nods and tries really hard not to cry. They go back to washing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen. Baekhyun lets Taeyong get lost in his thoughts and Taeyong can feel his mind unraveling, his heart feeling lighter by the minute.

That is until Baekhyun sees the fucking star stickers on the fridge that Taeyong was too stupid to hide. Baekhyun’s face clouds in confusion and an emotion Taeyong can’t quite identify, something he has never seen on Baekhyun’s face before.

“What are those stars for?” Baekhyun asks. He sounds careful and curious both, as if he wants to know but dreads the answer all the same.

Taeyong thinks about making up a lie, but he is way too flustered and way too confused by the sudden cloudy unhappiness in Baekhyun’s eyes to think of something smart to say, so he just tells Baekhyun the truth: “Ten and Doyoung think they’re really funny and they got kind of jokingly upset with me for, you know, talking about you so much,” his ears turn all hot here, “and so they add a sticker every time I mention your-“ he has to swallow because his throat and his mouth have apparently forgotten how to do their job properly, “your name.” He ducks his face, feeling self-conscious and stupid and afraid.

Baekhyun makes a soft noise, like a gasp, a tiny sound that Taeyong has never heard before. Taeyong look at him then, sees his cheeks burning red and his lips forming a round little “o”. Baekhyun tries to say something, but it just ends up being more soft noises. Taeyong’s skin is hot and cold all at once, somehow, goose bumps breaking up all over his body, making him feel tingly and excited. Baekhyun still looks uncharacteristically shy, the deep blush on his cheeks so pretty that Taeyong wants to reach out his hand and touch all of his fingers to it to feel if the skin is hot.

“You wanna go for a walk?” Baekhyun finally stutters and Taeyong doesn’t trust his voice enough to answer, so he just nods. The fresh air outside feels really good, calms Taeyong’s jittering nerves a little. They go down to the river, hiding behind masks and their hoods pulled low into their faces. The river mumbles quietly, the water almost black in the darkness, a broken mirror reflecting the artificial lights of the city.

Taeyong feels daring and brave when he takes Baekhyun’s hand. He holds hands with people he likes all the time, but it has never felt like this, like it means something more. Baekhyun’s hand is really warm against his.

The words between them flow more easily now that they are not looking at each other, now that they are walking and they are far away from the stupid star stickers.

“I really hated the way I looked in the photoshoots when we debuted,” Baekhyun says into the darkness. Taeyong gets ready to protest, but Baekhyun continues before he gets the chance. “No, I did. Because the others had trained so much longer and I was just this regular guy who could sing, you know?” He sighs. “God, I hated those pictures. And the people at the company wouldn’t shut up about the faults in my jawline and my body and my posture and my cheekbones and my chin. I’d been okay with how I looked all my life and it only took them a few months to make me feel absolutely shit about my body and my face.”

Taeyong nods, because he knows exactly what Baekhyun is talking about, of course he does. The constant evaluations, the pressure to be perfect, the nasty things everyone will say behind your back and to your face if you don’t measure up to impossible standards.

“They made us go on these insane diets, until everything felt really fuzzy and I passed out all the time.” Baekhyun’s fingers are restless against Taeyong’s hand, so Taeyong starts stroking his thumb over them, soothing, soothing.

“And I have never been the same since. I know I used to be able to feel hungry and eat until I was full, but now I’m either starving or stuffing my face, I am either hungry or too full.” Baekhyun’s voice is as quiet as the whispers of the river water. Tired. Ashamed. Afraid of being judged, maybe, the way Taeyong felt in the kitchen earlier.

“Fuck the industry for doing that to you,” Taeyong says with passion. “I don’t think there is anyone left in the fucking company who has a healthy relationship with their body.” He halts in his steps, turns and wraps Baekhyun’s tiny frame in his arms, buries his face in the crook of Baekhyun’s neck. “I’m sorry they made you feel like this,” he says, though that seems inadequate.

Baekhyun hugs him back, pulls him impossibly closer, leans his face against Taeyong’s hair and exhales deeply.

“I saw you eating regular meals and cooking healthy things, even when we were on tour,” Baekhyun says into Taeyong’s hair. “You reminded everyone to get enough sleep and rest and it made me think about how much I have put my body through.” Taeyong can feel Baekhyun’s chest rise and fall, can feel his breathing and the rhythm of his heart against his own chest. It feels like the world has come to a halt around them, like nothing outside of this embrace and their shared breaths matters anymore.

“It made me want to try and be better to myself again,” Baekhyun admits. Taeyong smiles into their embrace before they disentangle their arms and continue their slow walk along the river, hand in hand.

“I found a personal trainer and nutritionist a week after we got back from tour,” Baekhyun says after a while of quiet. “And I started seeing a councilor two weeks ago. I want to stop going on these crazy crash diets, I don’t want to get weaker and weaker, I want to be healthy and strong and happy.”

Taeyong thinks his smile might split his face any moment. He feels so radiantly happy. He tells Baekhyun, tells him, too, that he thinks he’s the coolest person he knows, the strongest, too.

They talk about the industry and the beauty standards that have been ingrained into them, about mental health and the way they have been taught to abuse their bodies, while they walk towards Baekhyun’s place. It gets colder as the wind slowly picks up, has them huddle closer as they walk, their bodies melting into one tall shape in the light of the street lamps.

Baekhyun makes them warm tea when they get to his place. Taeyong snuggles into the colorful cushions on the couch, content and tired in the way that makes the whole body feel heavy. He feels safe and warm and happy, for once completely at ease and comfortable in his own skin.

Baekhyun lies down on the couch when he has finished his tea, resting his head in Taeyong’s lap. Taeyong wants to touch his fingers to the triangle of smooth skin exposed by Baekhyun’s button down shirt, to follow the silver line of his necklace, to open another button and another. But his mouth is all dry and he is too scared and he doesn’t know how people do this, usually, he really doesn’t want to seem inexperienced and dumb, though he definitely feels like he is.

Baekhyun smiles up at him, his cheeks flushed and happy. “I saw how you took care of Yuta and Jisung tonight,” he says and Taeyong smiles. “They didn’t even notice you were doing it, did they?”

“It’s the only way to take care of them sometimes,” Taeyong shrugs. He doesn’t really like being sneaky, but he has learned how to be out of sheer desperation.

“Taking care of stubborn people in the way they need most, that’s another thing you had to learn because of the role they gave you, isn’t it?” Baekhyun asks. He seems happy, but there is a darkness to his words, the ever-present anger at everyone who made Taeyong take on so much responsibility so very, very young. Taeyong nods.

“Thank you for taking care of me, too,” Baekhyun says very quietly, “because you have, haven’t you?” His words are so soft that Taeyong has to lean down a little to catch them. Baekhyun’s hair smells like pine trees and winter skies, clean and faint.

Taeyong nods. Everything is soft, the couch beneath him, the dim lights in the room, the quiet humming of the night, the expression in Baekhyun’s eyes.

Taeyong whispers truths into the quiet that he didn’t think he would ever share: That he was so alone for a long time in the role he was given too young, that it broke his heart watching someone else go through that, that he didn’t want Baekhyun to be as alone as he had been. Baekhyun asks careful questions and Taeyong shares the hardest parts, the scariest moments, the ones he is ashamed for, the ones in which he thought about running away, about quitting, about ending everything. Baekhyun curses the people at the company under his breath – for how crazy it was, for how lonely Taeyong was and how scared. Fuck them all, he says, fuck them all for everything they put you through. And he says thank you again and again. Thank you for taking care of me exactly how I needed, thank you for making me want to be better to myself. Thank you for trusting me enough to share yourself with me, even the parts that scare you. Baekhyun tries to give back the trust by telling Taeyong how scared he has become after the terror of people hating on him for living his life, for falling in love, for having an opinion. How cautious he has become, how guarded, how hard it is now to open up and trust somebody with himself in any meaningful way because he has learned the hard way that making yourself vulnerable means you can get deeply hurt.

As if to prove his point, Baekhyun tries to cover some of the vulnerability up with a joke, but Taeyong shakes his head, whispers “please don’t” and “trust me” and “thank you”. Baekhyun’s lips are warm red in the dim lights, look soft and inviting and Taeyong wants to feel so bad, bad, to taste, so bad. He leans down, chasing Baekhyun’s lips. Baekhyun stills him for a moment with fingers softly touching his jaw, looks at the hunger he must see in Taeyong’s eyes, shivers, blushes more deeply, his lips shining and red and plump. Taeyong wants wants wants so bad. He makes a tiny whimpering sound and whispers “please, please” and Baekhyun tilts his head up and lets himself be kissed.

Taeyong shivers at the first touch of warm, smooth skin, leans in closer, closer, bites gently, licks and kisses and touches his lips to Baekhyun’s mouth again, again, again. Baekhyun’s lips are open and soft. Taeyong has thought about this so much, dreamed about how it would feel, how it would smell, how it would taste to be this close to Baekhyun. It feels almost unreal that it is happening and he needs to touch his fingers to Baekhyun’s solid chest and feel his heartbeat to make sure that this is real. Baekhyun just lets Taeyong explore, small pleased sounds tumbling into the space between them. He whimpers softly when Taeyong licks along his bottom lip, so Taeyong does it again and is rewarded with a nip that makes things even hotter, closer, a sob escaping Taeyong’s throat. Taeyong touches their tongues together then, Baekhyun’s fingers coming up to wrap around his neck, to draw him closer, closer. Taeyong shivers at the pressure around his neck, Baekhyun’s fingers touching the soft skin there, squeezing until Taeyong moans deep in his chest, a sound he has never heard himself making. He blushes like crazy, feels stupid and strange, but he doesn’t want to stop. Instead, he licks into Baekhyun’s mouth, tangles his fingers in Baekhyun’s warm hair. Baekhyun lets Taeyong set the pace, lets him play and explore until they are both completely wrecked, wet lips and flushed cheeks and everything is too hot too tight and Taeyong is so restless he feels he might jump out of his skin.

Baekhyun gentles him, then, softly, quietly stroking his hair, pulling back a little so they can both catch their breath. “Was this your first?” Baekhyun asks, his voice all sorts of broken. Taeyong nods, says “the first that felt anything like – like this”. Baekhyun asks “how” and Taeyong swallows, hides his face behind his hair just a little. “Like there are a million tiny suns in my belly,” he whispers, “like I should be glowing in the dark with how much my skin is burning, like I am going to implode if I don’t get to do it again.” Baekhyun kisses him again, licks into his mouth, makes Taeyong sigh and sob and say “please” and “please” and “closer”. 

Baekhyun doesn’t take it any further than that, though, doesn’t touch Taeyong anywhere else, doesn’t try to take off his clothes. He just kisses Taeyong, again, again, lets himself be kissed restless and breathless in return. Until Taeyong doesn’t feel awkward at all anymore, this thing between them something wonderful and happy and new instead. Baekhyun kisses Taeyong’s lips again, again, soft little kisses, and asks if they should watch an episode of the show they started the last time they spent time together. Taeyong just nods, because he doesn’t trust his voice, yet. They sit next to each other, touching, close, fingers entwined. While the plot of the show unravels, Taeyong’s mind final has time to catch up with his body and his heart. It leaves him scared and breathless but also happy in a way he has never been. He feels like he wants to kiss Baekhyun again, so he does. Baekhyun wraps his hand around Taeyong’s neck, tilts his head a little. The kiss turns deeper, warmer, wetter, melts things low in Taeyong’s belly. Baekhyun pulls back and lets his gaze travel over Taeyong’s face, something incredibly soft and vulnerable in his eyes. His next kiss makes Taeyong feel like he has swallowed the entire galaxy and all the light of the stars in it.

Taeyong still feels weightless when Baekhyun wraps him up in a pastel pink and baby blue sweater, calls him a cab and they finally say goodnight with another soft, happy kiss. He wishes he didn’t have an early schedule tomorrow, but he is also a tiny bit glad that he can return to his own room so he can process what just happened and understand what it means. He pulls all of his books out of their shelf and starts to sort them by color, arranging them neatly, all the edges exactly aligned, until his mind is quiet, his heart beats slowly in his chest and he can close his eyes and sleep.


	4. DELIGHT.

The work for NCT’s comeback picks up and so does the work for Baekhyun’s solo project and there is very little time they can spend together. They steal dark, silent hours in the middle of the night, sometimes, and things said through phone screens. Baekhyun is talking about the upcoming photo shoots a lot, about the concept art of the album, about the aesthetic of the music video that has to be shot. And every time Taeyong sees him, he looks a little more worn out. Until one night, Baekhyun confesses that he is really struggling with eating again. That he has been weighing himself twice a day. That he is scared of the feeling of fat on his lips. That he catches himself pressing his fingers into the ridges between his ribs to make sure they are deep enough. “What do I do?” He asks.

He promises to continue seeing his councilor and his personal trainer, to share the truth about his current state. Taeyong wraps Baekhyun’s small, shivering form in his arms and nuzzles his face into the crook of his shoulder. “I’ll help you, you can get through this. I promise. You can.” He taps the inside of Baekhyun’s writs with his thumb, once, twice, three times. A silent gesture they started sharing when SuperM was about to debut, when they were crazy scared and still hardly knew each other. A gesture that can be hidden, that is theirs only, something to soothe their nerves, a quiet way to say: 'I’m here. You’re not alone.'

Taeyong carefully goes through his schedule after that night, carves out as much time as he can. He asks Doyoung and Kun for help looking after everyone, shares a tiny bit of the truth, enough to make them understand how important this is. They don’t hesitate, they just take over, gift him as much free time as they can. It makes something heavy lift off his shoulders, makes him realize that maybe he doesn’t have to carry all of his burdens alone. When he hugs them, thankful and humbled and happy, they both squeeze him impossibly tight, say “I love you” and “you are such an idiot sometimes” and “go, take care of your stupidly adorable boyfriend”.

He buys healthy food, stocks Baekhyun’s fridge, labels everything neatly. He cooks meals with lots of nutrients, protein, things that will make Baekhyun feel full without weighing him down or making him feel bloated. He buys healthy snacks, too. He tries to eat with Baekhyun as much as he can, keep him company during the meals that are the hardest, holds him after, tries to make him forget the guilt and the fear by telling him stories, by singing with him, by dancing for him and losing against him in his favorite video games.

Baekhyun lets Taeyong re-organize his kitchen, lets him sort all of the clothes in his closet by color, makes him bring things, leave them at his place. “To make it feel like you’re here even when you’re not,” he says. It makes Taeyong feel like crying.

Taeyong gets to visit the set of one of the promo photoshoots for Baekhyun's new album that has by now been titled 'Delight'. After Beakhyun supported NCT at every opportunity he got, Taeyong really wants to be there for Baekyhun in this way, too, even though he is younger and less experienced, even though this might technically not be what a junior does. Because they are beyong these things now, aren't they? There is still a lot of kissing and cuddling and, if their schedules allow, sleeping in the same bed, their limbs tangled and their breathing in sync. Taeyong would really like to ask what this means, what he means to Baekhyun, if Baekhyun's heart jumps every time they are together like Taeyong's heart does. But he doesn't know how to ask and he feels really stupid any time he tries to casually bring it up. How do other people do this? Is it a bad sign that Baekyhun hasn't brought it up, yet? Surely he would know how it works if he wanted to, wouldn't he?

By the time Baekhyun is done with his makeup, Taeyong kind of wishes he hadn't come. Because there is a lot of sticky candy and adorable clothes and Baekyhun with smudged red lipstick and Taeyong's body is in flames. Taeyong covers his lap with the sweater he was wearing and that seems way too hot now. He hopes noone notices what is happening. Oh god. It's as if the want that has started to bloom in him is growing with each touch, each smile, each conversation shared between them. Taeyong has no idea how he is supposed to cope with the crazy fire in his blood, the warm and sticky things in his belly. It is slowly driving him mad. He has to close his eyes when Baekhyun starts lowering his lashes, opening his red, red lips a little for the camera. Taeyong tries to slow his breathing, to think of something else, but his body betrays him, blinks his lids open again and again to peek. He presses his hands over his sweater to make the pulsing in his lap go away, but the pressure only makes things worse. He is in so much fucking trouble.

Taeyong keeps his sweater covering his lap for the entire duration of the photoshoot. He brought food for the team and for Baekyhun that they eat on set, everyone chatting comfortably, cracking jokes. But Taeyong is quiet, quieter even than he usually is, his eyes flitting back to Baekyhun's lips that still hold a faint red tint. His hands are shaking and his skin feels crazy hot, tight, prickling like goosbumps. He needs, needs. He needs so bad.

Baekyhun picks up on his quietness, of course. He leans in to whisper: "Hey, are you okay?" halfway through the meal.

Taeyong thinks this is definitely not the time to bring up the way his blood is slowly turning to lava and that Baekhyun being this close is definitely not helping. He shakes his head and says: "I just haven't slept very well last night." Which is true. He just leaves out the fact that he was awake most of the night thinking about the way Baekhyun's lips feel on his and how much he wants Baekhyun's hands everywhere, everywhere on his skin. Fantasies interspersed with shitty worries about the hatred that has been directed at Taeyong for years now, about his former classmate who will just not stop spreading terrible things about him. It has started to affect his family, his sister. And SM is pressuring him more and more to finally give them the okay to take legal action. But he just - he can't. He feels so much at night, so many different, crazy strong emotions, that he thinks they might rip him apart.

*

That night, when he closes his eyes to sleep, Taeyong sees Baekhyun’s eyes again, his lips. Hears his voice. Feels his hands on his skin. They have kissed countless times by now, the feeling of Baekhyun’s skin against his lips still sending fireworks into his bloodstream. But Baekhyun has never touched him in more intimate ways, in ways Taeyong has very little experience with. How does this work? Does he need to ask for it? Or make the first move? What even is the first move? Baekhyun clearly has no problems being physically intimate with people. So would he like to be with Taeyong this way? Would it be weird to ask him that? Is he supposed to just kind of wait for signs?

Taeyong thinks about asking someone for help, but he is too embarrassed. So instead he starts to research. He does it only when the lights have been off for a while, when he is alone in his bed with the covers a tiny cave around him. At first he sticks to websites that give advice for people who are inexperienced like him, helpful things that make his cheeks burn none the less. But reading about the technicalities of dating and of being physically intimate with someone makes crazy hot fantasies flash in front of his eyes, things he’s seen in movies and photos he never really found all that enticing until now, until he started imagining Baekhyun instead of an aesthetically pleasing person whose soul he doesn’t know. He starts to understand why people do stupid things when they are attracted to someone, how much a of crazy force it is. Because his blood runs fucking hot every time he thinks about Baekhyun that way, his toes curl and his skin is so warm and tingly, things pulling low in his belly. He wants. He wants wants wants in ways that are scary in the best way. And so his research kind of derails, until he is watching videos he needs to confirm his age to watch. The videos themselves make him feel strange in the way this stuff always has, like something might be wrong with him, like he just doesn’t get it. But when he thinks about what it would feel like if it was him on his knees, Baekhyun’s fingers holding his chin in place, guiding his lips open, his tongue on soft skin, tasting parts of Baekhyun he has never, ever tasted, he catches his hands wandering over his own skin, way too hot too tight, touching the hurt pulsing in his belly. He closes his eyes and makes a mental list about the things he wants to experience, things he wants to ask Baekhyun to do to him. He imagines Baekhyun’s lips, then, pink and glossy, closing around Taeyong’s fingers, sucking, drenching them in warm spit, biting hard enough to make him hurt a little. And he rakes his nails over his own skin, closes his eyes to imagine Baekhyun’s teeth closing around his nape, hard, imagines running his tongue along the deep curve of Baekhyun’s collarbone. Taeyong touches his fingers to the painful bulge in his pants and hisses with how fucking good it feels. It’s insane how good it feels when he rubs his palm over it, again, again, increasing the pressure a little.

He bites his tongue to swallow the deep moan forming in his throat. Oh God.

He imagines chasing the tiny silver thread of Baekhyun’s favorite necklace down his chest, opening the buttons of his dress shirt one by one. Imagines Baekhyun’s fingers buried in the hair at the back of Taeyong’s head, pulling tight, tilting his head back with enough force to scare him a little. Making him beg. Beg to be messed up, to be fucked, beg for Baekhyun to leave marks on him so he will remember every touch the next morning.

Taeyong comes apart to images of being pinned against the wall, of Baekhyun’s thumb caressing the front of his neck with enough pressure to show how much at his mercy Taeyong is. It feels incredibly good. Warm. Electric. But after, Taeyong feels sticky and gross and lonely. He sneaks to the shower and scrubs his body clean, the water too hot. He wants to be held. He wants to not be alone. He wants Baekhyun, he wants- the water tastes strange and salty.

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep.

*

Something wraps around Taeyong’s ankle, quick and vicious. It has razor-sharp edges that tear through his skin, make him bleed black clouds into the water around him. He screams bubbles and silence into the darkness, only makes himself run out of breath faster this way. Taeyong struggles against the hold of the deep, struggles to swim towards the faint light above. He has no idea why he struggles at all, he will never reach the surface before he runs out of breath. But he struggles, still. The grip around his leg tightens until he feels his bones break. The sound they make as they splinter is strangely soft and quiet. Pain fills every part of his being, erases even the burning in his lungs, the dizziness, the fear. He is pulled deeper, deeper into the blackness below.

The water that fills his lungs is cold. It hurts so much. Everything hurts so much. No one ever told him it would take this long to drown, it would hurt this badly. When the world around him is black and everything is starting to fade out, fuzzy and strange, the hurt finally stops. And what is left is not the peace people talk about when they talk about death. What is left is deep, deep sorrow.

Taeyong wakes up to silent screams echoing inside of him and a pain in his chest that is almost unbearable. It is pitch-black around him and he cannot move his body. His skin is wet and cold with sweat, his eyes are burning. He tries to calm his breaths, to remind himself that he is lying in his bed in the dorms, that it is nighttime and he just had a nightmare. He starts to cry, silently and secretly, because there is so much sorrow and hurt and panic still reverberating inside of him.

When he can finally move his body, he gets up on shaking legs, dabs at the tears on his face and turns on the lights. It is three o’clock in the morning. The stupid tears just won’t stop flowing, his body shaking with sobs he doesn’t allow himself to make. He is quiet, quiet as he heads out into the kitchen, makes himself a hot chocolate, sits below the soft ceiling lights and tries to breathe into his belly, deep breaths of cool air. It was a nightmare. He is just feeling the terror it left behind. He is okay.

Taeyong nearly knocks the mug of hot chocolate off the counter with his shaking hands. Everything feels so strange and so scary. Why can’t he stop crying?

He should just go back to bed, read a little to take his mind off of things. Maybe watch some TV. But instead he sneaks out the door, takes his bike out and heads to Baekhyun’s place.

The security guard lets him in after taking a good look at his face and his ID. Baekhyun gave him the all-clear and the door-code to his apartment three weeks ago. And here he is, not only a month after being trusted so deeply, entering the apartment in the middle of the night without invitation.

The apartment is dark and quiet, all he can hear is the humming of the fridge coming from the kitchen. Taeyong stands in the living room for more than half an hour, debating what to do. He is shaking like crazy, cold to the bone, his mind screaming at him to get out, get out, his body thrumming with the hurt and the fear and the terrible sorrow left behind by his nightmare, laced with the crazy want that is still, somehow, pulsing in his belly despite everything.

Taeyong quietly walks into Baekhyun’s bedroom, feeling like the worst person on the planet for violating his privacy like this. He should leave, leave now, he should never have come here. But he kneels next to the bed and, as softly as he can, calls out Baekhyun’s name.

Baekhyun turns, makes a quiet, unintelligible sound, and then, suddenly, pulls Taeyong into the bed with surprising strength. Taeyong yelps, flustered. Baekyhun wraps his arms around him tight, tight, and buries his face in Taeyong’s neck.

“Are you okay?” Baekhyun asks. Instead of answering, Taeyong just starts to cry, finally letting the sobs escape his lips. He is so cold. He is so cold despite this stupid, hot burning in his belly and he feels so unreal and so sad and so alone and so afraid and so strange.

“Hey, shh,” Baekhyun whispers, his hands stroking up and down Taeyong’s back, dipping into his hair, soothing, soothing. “I’m here, I’m here, you’re not alone.”

Taeyong tries to stop shaking, but he just can’t help it. He apologizes again, again, again, like a prayer, 'sorry for breaking in like this, I should have dealt with it alone, please don’t hate me'. And he thinks but doesn’t say: 'Please, please, please don’t leave me, don’t cut me out of your life, don’t hate me now that you know how much of a burden I am'.

After a long while of apologies that turn frantic, the terror coursing through Taeyong’s veins sneaking into his voice, Baekhyun turns on the light on the bedside table. He sits up and Taeyong thinks: This is it, he has finally had enough.

“You need to stop,” Baekhyun says in a voice that is meant to be obeyed. He gets up and holds out a hand for Taeyong, pulls him out of bed.

“I told you to come over any time you want. Especially if you feel like this,” Baekhyun says as he leads Taeyong to the hallway. “And I meant it." He opens the doors of the linen closet and pulls out an array of towels in tasteful colors. He scoops them all up and carries them to the living room. Taeyong is dumbfounded. He follows Baekyhun into the living room.

“Let’s fold these up nicely, yeah?” Baekhyun says and plops down on the floor next to the pile of towels.

“I-“ Taeyong’s hands are shaking like crazy. “I’m sorry, I-“

Baekhyun just shakes his head and pushes a bunched-up towel into Taeyong’s hands. “Let’s get to work,” he says with authority.

Taeyong carefully places the towel on the floor in front of himself and smooths out the fabric. It’s cream colored and feels soft against his palms as he works, his hands knowing what to do even though the mayhem in his head won’t let him think. He gently folds one corner of the towel down, aligning the edges, then fold everything in half carefully. His muscles sort of take over from there, folding and rolling, tucking. He creates a tight, neat towel-roll. When he is done, he picks up another bunched-up towel and gets to work. The routine of the familiar task is comforting and he stacks the rolled towels up neatly, making a color gradient that soothes his soul. He can breathe much easier when he is halfway done. Baekhyun sits with him quietly, watches him be crazy, a quiet presence that reminds the really scared parts of his heart that he is not alone.

“Was it the same nightmare? Or is there something else worrying you like this?” Baekhyun asks into the quiet.

Taeyong sighs deeply, tension bleeding out of him as he carefully aligns the edges of a dove grey towel. “I said really mean shit in middle-school,” he whispers, “things I’m ashamed of, things no one deserves to hear.” He recounts the story, distorted versions of which he has been reading all over the internet for years now. He doesn’t meet Baekhyun’s eyes while he talks, just folds the remaining towels. “I apologized. I apologized for who I was and what I did,” his voice is tiny. “And I thought things might be okay now.”

“But they aren’t?” Baekhyun’s voice is steady and calm. There is no judgment, though Taeyong thinks maybe there should be. He shakes his head.

“Why not?”

“I don’t-“ but he can’t talk about it, he can’t say that someone is spreading malicious shit about him, because even though what they are saying is not true, he did really hurt them back in school. How could he talk badly about them now? “I apologized. I apologized for the things I did. And the things I didn’t do. But-“

“The things you didn’t do?” Baekhyun touches his bare toes to Taeyong’s shin. “So someone is spreading malicious things about you? Things that aren’t true?”

Taeyong nods. “Yeah. But they are based in something true. In what I did. Who I was.”

Baekhyun falls quiet for so long that Taeyong finally looks up to see if he is still there. He is such a mess. He is such a disgusting mess of a person. He bites his lips and tries really hard not to cry again. He fails.

Baekhyun is looking at him with sadness in his eyes. “You were a kid, Taeyong,” he says. “And you could easily use that as an excuse. But you didn’t, you don’t. You owned up to the things you did and you changed. No one should suffer a lifetime for something they did when they were a child.”

“But I don’t-“

“What if it was one of your boys?” Baekhyun asks, “one of them that said those things when they were younger?”

“That’s different. They’re not-“ They don’t have the bad things in them like Taeyong does.

“Taeyongie.” Baekhyun scoots closer, wraps his arms around him. “Tell me, tell me everything that happened.”

And he does. He has never told anyone the full story, recounted everything he said and everything he has been accused of now, all the lies that are being spread. And he tells Baekhyun that the reason for his terror tonight is that SM has finally had enough of him trying to hold them back, they want to sue the person spreading shit about him. It’s all the more difficult because he knows their desire to set the record straight comes from a place of pure financial calculation (can’t make as much money off an idol with a less-than spotless image). Baekhyun listens quietly, his arms a warm, familiar comfort, his breathing quiet against Taeyong's skin.

Taeyong talks himself into a tired silence and Baekyhun just continues to hold him, running his fingers through Taeyong's hair, soothing, soothing.

Baekhyun kisses Taeyong's cheek and presses his nose against the soft skin right below Taeyong's ear, breathes deeply into the silence and then he tells Taeyong truths about himself that Taeyong cannot really align with the person he has come to know over the past months: A young guy, pretty and talented but unsure, self-conscious, unhappy, who used people’s attention as validation. Who picked up doe-eyed girls and guys that admired him for who he was, took them back to his place, made them get on their knees for him, spread their legs for him, sigh his name. Promised them things, dates, calls that he never intended to follow through with.

Baekhyun lets go of Taeyong and wraps his arms aroung his own waist. “The worst part is that I can’t even tell you how many people I have hurt like this. Who they were, what they looked like. So I cannot even apologize for it.” He looks so ashamed, so deepy sorry and disgusted with himself. “I changed, I don’t- that’s not who I am anymore. I-“ he looks like he regrets telling Taeyong this truth about himself. “These last years, I’ve still, you know, had casual sex, but I was always honest about it, whoever I was with was looking for no-strings attached fun, too. I would never lie like that again, I would never take someone home who was so drunk they might regret it the next morning.” He swallows hard. “But still, that’s who I was. What I did.”

Taeyong is quiet for a really long time as things in his mind and heart shift.

“Do you want me to call you a cab?” Baekhyun finally asks into the night, his voice this broken thing.

Taeyong is in his lap so quickly they fall back, land hard on the floor. Taeyong presses kisses to Baekyhun’s face, soft, soft kisses, to his cheeks and his eyelids, his brows, the soft skin beneath his eyes, his temples, his lips.

“Thank you,” he says against Baekhyun’s skin, “for trusting me.” With the things he is so ashamed of, afraid of. Taeyong knows what it is like to live with dark things inside of his heart, with the terror that comes from hoping no one will ever find out about them. He knows what it must have cost Baekhyun to share this with him, and he knows that he did it to make Taeyong feel less alone, less different, to make him realize that he is not the only person on the planet who has made mistakes when he was younger. That maybe it does matter if you change, maybe it does matter that you regret the things you did, own up to them. That maybe he could one day learn to forgive himself.

Baekhyun kisses his lips, buries his fingers in Taeyong’s hair. Maybe it is time to protect his family from the slander that is spiraling out of control, Taeyong thinks. Maybe he needs to take SM up on their offer and start looking into legal actions he could take.

He pulls back and rubs the tip of his nose against Baekhyun’s. “I’m in love with you.” He says it like a fact, like something he has known for a long time. Because it is, because he has. “I love you.”

Baekhyun’s face melts into a fragile happiness that makes Taeyong want to protect him however he can. “I love you, too,” he says. “So much.”

They stay wrapped up in each others arms on the floor next to a beautiful color gradient of rolled-up towels until Taeyong starts rubbing his face. He feels really gross from crying and still strange, his skin prickly and sticky.

"Ugh," he finally sighs, "I feel so disgusting. Crying sucks."

Baekyhun laughs and touches his fingers to the sore skin below Taeyong's eyes. "You wanna take a shower?" He offers.

Taeyong feels stupidly drunk on emotions and maybe that is what finally gives him a crazy kind of courage. "Yeah, I would love a shower," he says. He lowers his eyes and swallows hard. "You wanna share it with me?" He bites his tongue as soon as the question has left his lips, but it's too late now. "I mean," he says, "I don't- if you don't want to, you know, do that with me, I-"

Baekhyun shakes his head, quieting Taeyong's embarassed rambling. Baekhyun waits until Taeyong is brave enough to lift his head, meet his eyes. "We can do anything you want," he says then, "and stop whenever you want to, change things however you want to, okay?"

Taeyong nods. Swallows. Swallows. Swallows. "How come," he finally asks, "how come you never tried to - you know-" He doesn't really know how to finish his question.

Baekhyun's cheeks are warm and pretty looking, his eyes are dark, dark. "Because you told me you are all new to this, yeah?" Taeyong nods. "And I didn't want to make you feel like I had any expectations, like there was any pressure to do something you might not be comfortable with." He sighs. "Maybe I should have told you that in like, actual words." He bites his lip, apologizes. "I didn't mean to make you feel weird, I'm sorry, I- I just want you to know that if this- if being together like we have been, if that is all we ever do, that is okay. Because it means I get to be with you and I really, really like being with you."

Taeyong closes his eyes. He is still kneeling on the floor and he feels the way it does when a rollercoaster drops so fast your mind hasn't really caught up with the movement, yet and it seems like your body has been dropped over a cliff. "But I do want to. Do more things. I-" he blushes like crazy, feels the throbbing, deep pain back in his belly.

"I have a list, actually," Taeyong blurts out. Is this something he should not say out loud? Is this weird? "I, uh, don't like being unprepared and in the dark and I, uh, well I kind of did some research." He blushes deeply. "Well, a lot of research. I have a list. Of everything I really, really- I mean-" Why is he so goddamn weird? Taeyong stifles the impulse to hit himself in the face. When Taeyong dares to look up at him, Baekhyun's cheeks are flushed and pretty and there is a dark heat in his eyes. Baekhyun bites his lips and groans "oh god".

"Is this bad?" Taeyong asks, "Should I not have - did I overthink it? Is this weird?"

Baekhyun swallows hard, leans closer, closer, until Taeyong can see the lights of the city shimmering in the depths of Baekhyun's eyes. "Can I kiss you?" Baekhyun asks and Taeyong nods dumbly, thinks: 'yes, of course, why would you even ask?', but feels something settle in his chest that was quiverig before. He feels so out of his depth, so nervous and excited and happy and scared and overwhelmed and Baekhyun's gentle question is as reassuring as his soft touch against Taeyong's chin, fingertips holding him in place, his thumb tugging Taeyong's lips open just a little bit. Baekhyun kisses him once, twice, licks into his mouth, whispers: "It's not weird, Taeyongie, I've never been more turned on in my fucking life. God, I love your mind."

They kiss until the throbbing heat in Taeyong's belly has spread everywhere, everywhere, making his whole body shiver with want. Is it possible to die from this? He gasps into Baekhyun's mouth, whimpers something that sounds like "please" but is no real word at all.

Baekyhun pulls back. His lips look all fucked up and Taeyong's bones rattle with how much he needs for him to come back, come closer again right now.

"Will you tell me," Baekhyun asks, "what's on the list?"

Taeyong is too far gone to be embarassed. If it will make Baekhyun kiss him again, press against him, come closer closer, he will tell him anything, everything. And so, in a voice laced with desperate want, he tells Baekhyun about the things he sees in his mind when he tosses and turns at night, his body too hot and his skin too tight.

Halfway down the list, Baekhyun gets up, pulls Taeyong up with him and walks Taeyong into the next wall, pins him against it, all solid heat, his chest rising and falling crazy fast. Baekhyun grabs Taeyong's neck, presses him into the wall, close, close, rocks his hips into Taeyong's belly. Taeyong moans deep in his throat, tries to get Baekhyun to roll his hips again, to tighten his hold on Taeyong's neck. "Is this okay?" Baekhyun asks. Taeyong nods so quickly he makes himself sick. It's his hot fantasies come true when Baekhyun kisses Taeyong with force, makes him gasp for air. He tugs at Taeyong's hair and everything turns into a whirlpool of bright hot want. Taeyong hears himself pant, feels his hips moving, searching for more friction, the crazy, molten heat and pain in his belly unbearable. Baekhyun twists his fingers in Taeyong's hair, pulls with a little more force, swallows the moans tumbling out of Taeyong's mouth. He gently nips at Taeyong's lower lip and Taeyong sobs. Sobs. Oh god, he needs to - he needs - he needs - Baekhyun bites harder, moans into his mouth, moves his lips to Taeyong's neck and bites there, too. So hard the world turns into a kaleidoscope of bright colors that don't make any sense. Taeyong moans Baekhyun's name, presses forward, rolls his hips in a rhythm that feels too slow, just enough to make the want in him grow even more. He thinks he might be saying Baekhyun's name, all wrapped up in soft, needy noises that tumble into the space between them.

While they kiss until Taeyong is dizzy, gasping for air, Baekhyun lets Taeyong undo the buttons of his soft sleep shirt, run his hands over Baekhyun's skin, warm and smooth under his touch. Taeyong feels his fingers tremble as he pulls back a little to dip his head and lick down Baekhyun's lean neck, kiss the arch of his collar bone like he has done so many times in his dreams. He bites the hard plane of Baekhyun's chest, sucks a deep red bruise onto the skin there. Baekhyun shucks off his open shirt with a small shrug of his shoulders and touches the hem of Taeyong's oversized t-shirt. "May I take this off?" He asks and Taeyong nods, but only when he says "yes, yes" does Baekhyun lift the shirt. He runs his hands along the line of Taeyong's waist and Taeyong suddenly thinks that the space just below the ribs is so very soft, no bones protecting all the important organs below the skin. He shivers at the thought of being vulnerable like this, of Baekhyun's hands resting on his waist, gently holding him in place as he leans forward and kisses Taeyong's mouth soft, soft.

Baekyhun pushes his face into Taeyong's nape, then, and pulls him into a warm hug, skin on skin. Taeyong's body is still screaming "more more more now", but it feels incredibly beautiful to be close to someone like this. In the quiet warmth of the embrace, Taeyong's mind and heart can catch up with his body that is racing into this wanting everything at once. Baekhyun runs his hands up Taeyong's ribs, traces the inside of his arms that has never felt as sensitive as it does now, gentling. He caresses Taeyong's neck, his face, his nape, presses small kisses to his shoulder, whispering wonderful things. Only when Taeyong feels his heartbeat slow a little, when he has relaxed against Baekhyun's warm skin, does Baekyhun pull back. He smiles a tiny, beautiful smile, all crooked and touches their noses together. "What do you want?" Baekhyun asks and Taeyong has to swallow twice before he can whisper: "To be closer to you."

Baekhyun walks them to the bathroom. Taeyong feels a little lost now that he is not pressed between Baekhyun and the wall any longer. They undress each other slowly, kissing and biting and touching. Baekhyun stops them every now and again to press a soft kiss to Taeyong's lips, hold his gaze, smile, ask 'is this okay?' and give Taeyong's mind and heart time to catch up with the deep need pulsing below his skin, in his veins, in his belly. When they are completely naked, Taeyong thinks he might choke, he is so turned on and so nervous both.

Baekhyun shivers, says: "It's unfair, how can you be so wonderful and smart and funny and pretty and talented and this fucking hot, too?" and kisses him, wet and deep. Taeyong preens under the praise, feels his pulse quicken, a tiny whimper escaping his throat. He wants to be good, wants to be so good for Baekhyun.

They step into Baekhyun's luxurious shower and the warm water running in rivulets over Baekhyun's beautiful body does nothing to put out the flames of want that are dancing just below Taeyong's skin. Baekhyun walks Taeyong back against the cool tiles of the wall, the contrast of hot and cold making goosebumps break out all over Taeyong's body. He can feel Baekhyun hard against his belly and his teeth start chattering with how much he is trembling now. Baekhyun wraps his fingers around both of their cocks and starts stroking, tortorously slowly. Taeyong fucking chokes on his sobs. He bites his lips, bites Baekhyun's neck, feeling overwhelmed and hot, electric sparks crackling over his skin. They kiss wet and slow, Baekyhun swallows all of Taeyong's noises, bites his mouth and his tongue and just before Taeyong thinks the world is going to explode, Baekyhun stops.

Instead of pleading for him to come back, to please, please, please come closer, Taeyong slides down slowly, until his knees hit the warm tiles of the floor. He opens his mouth wide and carefully sucks Baekhyun's cock into his mouth, running his tongue over the skin in ever changing patterns. He thinks about everything he read and watched and moves his head back and forth, makes sure to keep his teeth out of the way. God, it feels so fucking good. He feels so full and used, loves Baekhyun's fingers twisting in his hair, the hard tiles beneath his knees, the praise spilling from Baekhyun's lips. Taeyong thinks he has never felt this much all at once. It is overwhelming in the best way. He stops for a little moment, looks up at Baekhyun through his lashes, his lips feeling all fucked up and puffy. Baekhyun grabs the wall behind him to steady himself, swears lowly under his breath and touches his fingers to Taeyong's cheek, presses his thumb into Taeyong's mouth. Taeyong closes his lips around it, gently sucks on it and Baekhyun moans deep, his eyes rolling back.

"Do you like this, baby?", Baekhyun asks and Taeyong nods, says "yes, god, so much" around Baekhyun's thumb. He kind of wishes Baekhyun would grab his face harder, press his thumb against his tongue until it hurts a little. Baekhyun murmurs: "So pretty. So good. God, you're so beautiful" and Taeyong sucks his cock into his mouth again and makes Baekhyun moan his name.

When Baekhyun makes him stop with a hand in his hair, gently drawing him back, makes him get up off the floor, Taeyong stumbles on wobbly legs. He wants, he wants wants wants wants-

Things become fuzzy as Taeyong's mind gets too overwhelmed with need. He watches as Baekhyun turns off the shower, lets himself be dried off with a fluffy towel, more praise spilling from Baekyhun's lips until Taeyong cannot stop the whimpers coming from his troat, until he starts to whisper: "Please, please, I need - I need". Baekhyun leads him to the bedroom. It feels like a million years ago that Taeyong woke him up because of his nightmare.

Taeyong spreads out on the soft sheets for Baekhyun, feeling exposed and shy under Baekhyun's gaze. Their kisses turn deeper, wetter, hotter, Baekhyun's wet mouth traveling down Taeyong's body, lighting him on fire. At the first brush of tongue against his rim, Taeyong bites his lips bloody. Baekhyun holds Taeyong in place as he arches off the bed, stutters "more, don't stop, oh god please don't stop", his hands curling into the sheets, grappling for hold.

Baekhyun reaches up, entwines their hands, his fingers a line tethering Taeyong to reality as his body becomes weightless, all thoughts draining from his mind. "I've got you, baby,", Baekhyun promises, "I'm here." Baekhyun kisses and licks and teases him open and Taeyong can hear his own soft mewls, his fingers gripping Baekhyun's hands tight, pleading for him not to let go. He thinks he might fall off the edge of the earth if he did.

"Are you okay, baby?" Baekhyun asks, lifts his head to make eye contact with Taeyong. "Is this what you want?" He waits for Taeyong to nod and rasp: "God, yes." Baekhyun smiles, strangely shy and happy, a crooked smile that makes him look impossibly young and cute. Taeyong smiles back, bright happiness blooming in this chest.

Baekhyun keeps the fingers of his left hand tightly entwined with Taeyong's as he presses two fingers of the other hand into Taeyong, gently sliding up, up, curling into a wicked arch that makes the universe explode in Taeyong's body. When Baekhyun finally, finally crawls on top of Taeyong, leaving a trail of wet kisses on his skin along the way, Taeyong's world has become fragments of bright light and brighter pleasure. He watches Baekhyun rip open a blue foil packet and roll a condom over his straining cock. Taeyong tilts his head back, his back arching a little, his hips restless, restless. Taeyong holds his breath as Baekhyun starts to push into his body. He has to close his eyes because he feels so much, so much that he cannot hold Baekhyun's gaze any longer. He tries to apologize, but Baekhyun just nuzzles his neck and whispers reassuring words of love.

They fuck slow and deep, their bodies pressed close, sharing panted breaths and kisses. Baekyhun showers Taeyong with praise and gentle words of reassurance, licks his tongue into Taeyong's mouth in a maddening rhythm. Baekhyun asks Taeyong what he wants, what feels good again and again and Taeyong pants his answers against Baekhyun's wet, salty skin, into his hot mouth, against his swollen lips. Baekhyun fulfills every fantasy that Taeyong confesses, pulls Taeyong's hair hard enough for pinpricks of sweet pain to bloom on Taeyong's scalp, closes his hand around Taeyong's throat and bites his neck, presses him back against the mattress until he can hardly breathe and his entire body is prickly and warm and weightless.

And then, suddenly, the hot pain deep in Taeyong's belly turns into blinding pleasure, filling his all with warm, golden bliss. He hears himself cry out as his body convulses, tastes iron and salt when his teeth sink deep into his own lips. Baekhyun swears and says Taeyong's name, far, far away. His hips stutter against Taeyong as he moans and drops his head against Taeyong's neck, nonsensical words leaving his lips.

Taeyong thinks he passes out for a little bit, until he feels Baekhyun kissing the tip of his nose, the apples of his cheeks, his brows, his chin, his eye lids, his temples. Taeyong blinks his eyes open and kisses Baekhyun softly, feeling incredibly sleepy and happy.

Baekyhun helps Taeyong shower off the sticky mess on his stomach, washes him with warm hands and quiet touches. When their eyes meet, Baekhyun looks really scared. Taeyong sways on his feet, tilts his fuzzy head a little. "What's wrong?" he asks. Did he do something wrong? His fingers start shaking a little, fear trying to break through the serene warmth inside of him.

"I'm really scared of how much I like you," Baekhyun confesses, his voicy tiny, "I'm so scared of what you mean to me. I'm scared of being badly hurt."

Taeyong touches his fingers to Baekhyun's wrist in their silent, secret guesture of comfort. His heart feels so strange, like it is aching. "I love you," he says and kisses Baekhyun, deeply, with no hurry. Baekhyun looks so open, like he is not holding anything back, real and more vulnerable and more scared than he likes to admit.

When they are back in bed, Baekhyun wraps Taeyong up in the sheets and in his arms and Taeyong rests his head on Baekhyn's chest, cuddles close, feels content and warm and happy and loved, so loved.

Baekhyun is wearing soft, blue and purple pajama pants and nothing else. His hair is sticking up in all directions, no matter how often he lazily tries to smooth it down. He yawns loudly, his mouth open wide. "Sorry," he says with a sheepish grin.

Taeyong shakes his head, says: "no, you look so freaking cute." And then Taeyong runs his fingers over Baekhyun's skin, everywhere, gently. " I think I want to spend the rest of my life mapping your skin," he says. Baekhyun smiles blindingly bright in response, touches his finger to Taeyong's cheek and says "yes" and "yes" and "yes".

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this story to the very end. I hope you got lost in it for a little while and that it made you happy.
> 
> I would like to say a special thanks to QueenVeralidaineBookdragon, who asked for a h/c story featuring Baekhyun and Taeyong and who inspired me to write this :). Thank youuuuu! <3
> 
> Sending you all lots of love. I hope you know that you are loved and you are important and wonderful just the way you are <3


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